Clocking In Some One-Shots
by Rockgod96
Summary: In a direct response to a reviewer on Don't You Dare Clock Out Early, I'm creating this series of one-shots to showcase the other characters on the Overwatch and RED Team. This acts as a sort of midquel to my main series. Also, it's to keep you entertained while I write the next chapter to my main story. Hope you enjoy!
1. Chapter 1: Overwatch 4077th

**This series of one-shots is a direct response to Lord Demolitions asking me to show more of the other characters in the TF2/OW canon besides just Scout and Tracer. I don't think I can put anything like that into my main story, which I think would take the focus away from those two, so I've decided instead to write a side fanfiction showing more of the others. Scout and Tracer will make few, if any, appearances here.**

 **I came up with this idea a long time ago about making Overwatch seem like a mad house following the addition of the RED Team. The RED Team is made up of insane whackos, while Overwatch is made up of decent heroes. You can tell this based on their catchphrases:**

" _ **Too. Much. Caffiene."**_

" _ **That's how I lost my medical license."**_

" _ **Run! RUN! I'M COMING FOR YOU!"**_

" _ **Conga Conga Conga!"**_

 **Versus Overwatch, which uses:**

" _ **Cheers, love! The Calvary's here!"**_

" _ **Justice rains from above!"**_

" _ **I will protect the innocent!"**_

" _ **Our world is worth fighting for."**_

 **That's basically the difference between the two games.**

 **As I thought of this, I said to myself, "Huh. The RED Team would turn Overwatch into a M*A*S*H unit (I hope many of you have seen that show, and thus know what I'm talking about). Because of this, many of the characters will share similarities to characters from that show.**

 **For example, the RED Team, and some select Overwatch members (like Junkrat, McCree, and Reinhardt) are the Hawkeye, B.J., Trapper, and Klinger of the team (that is, they're the insane troublemakers), while Genji and Hanzo will resemble Major Burns, Pharah is the Hot Lips Houlihan of the group, Mei is sitting in for Radar, and Winston is the incompetent Lt. Col. Henry Blake (don't worry, he won't die in a helicopter crash).**

 **Also, the next chapter of the main story is going to take some time to write, so I'm putting these one-shots up to keep you guys satisfied until then. Hope you enjoy!**

Ever since joining Overwatch, Demoman, Engineer, and Sniper had spent more time around each other. Due to the tight space at Watchpoint, the three had to share a room together. They didn't mind that, though. Each one always had a blast with the other two. They were like brothers. The room that they shared made them look like they were brothers. When Hanzo first walked into it, he thought a tornado ripped through the place. There were clothes and books lying all over the floor, there was a skeleton hanging by its' neck from the ceiling (and this wasn't a plastic skeleton, this was a _real_ one, from a BLU team member that they had dominated), there were jars of urine in the room (which explained the foul smell), and Genji in particular was disgusted by the fact that they were even brewing their own beer and ale, and distilling their own gin and whiskey.

It wasn't just the Japanese fighters who were annoyed with their antics. Pharah once walked in to give them a status update, only to hear this:

"I must say, this ale is too bitter. Are you sure ya followed yer family's traditional family recipe correctly, partner?"

"Aye! Are ye insulting my intelligence, boy?!"

"No, of course not, buddy. That implies that you have intelligence."

"Well, let me tell ya something, laddie! Mah folks raised me to carry on their name's legacy! There is no way I can possibly get the DeGroot family's own ale wr- wait. Yer supposed to let it brew for _forty_ minutes, not twenty. Forgot about that."

Engineer and Sniper burst out laughing. "Come on, Dell. While we're waiting for dumbass to get his act together, pour us some Jack."

"With pleasure, Mundy."

Engineer poured three _pints_ of Jack Daniel's for the three of them. "Ahhhh," he said. "Just like the kind mama used to make."

Pharah walked into the room, and groaned in disgust at the piss smell that blew in her face. "Don't you boys have anything better to do in your off-hours than to sit around and swill booze all day?"

Mundy looked offended by this. " _Swill booze?!_ Lady, I have sipped, lapped, and taken Jack Daniel's intravenously, but I _do not_ and I _never have_ SWILLED BOOZE!"

Pharah groaned. "You boys are such pigs." This was met with oinking from Engineer. "If it wasn't for your _skills_ in combat, you all would be living on the streets! Thank your lucky stars that Winston is stupid enough to keep you on!"

Pouring some Coca-Cola in the Jack glasses, Sniper said, "Well, we'll drink to that!" The three clinked their glasses together and gulped them down, and that was enough for Pharah to take. She was also disgusted by the skeleton in their room. It was bad enough that the Soldier that she was sharing her room with had his own skeleton, as well as a collection of severed heads, but to think that it was common among them to have a real set of human bones lying around was appalling.

It wasn't just the Egyptian warrior that took issue with them. Hanzo and Genji looked at them as dishonorable gluttons with no dignity. One day, Genji broke down the door to their room, clearly angry.

"Oh hi, Gen!" Engineer mockingly said. "It's open! Come on in!"

"Cut the jokes. You know why I'm here! _Where's my copy of_ Secrets of the Samurai _?!"_

"Oh, ye mean this thing?" Demoman said, holding a copy of his book _Japanese Sword Fighting: Secrets of the Samurai_ , with some beer stains on the cover. "Ah was just borrowing it fer some light readin'!"

Genji grabbed it back from him and snarled, "Since when are you interested in sword-fighters?!"

"I peaked at the end, mate." Sniper joked. "Yoshihisa did it."

"Oh, ha ha ha. You're such a fucking comedian!"

"Thank you! Thank you, ladies and gentlemen! I'll be here all week! And your Princess of Egypt thinks that we would be homeless without you guys!"

"She seems to be forgettin' about that time we saved 'er from bein' disintegrated by that Taloon ( **Author's Note** : I intentionally misspelled that to show Demoman's illiteracy) bloke!"

"Well, I think this calls for another round, don't ya boys think so?"

"Aye!"

"Definitely, mate!"

At last, Genji lost patience. "You know, I have had just about all I can stand from you dishonorable morons, between your disgusting lifestyles, and your corruption of the Overwatch, particularly the young girls, and your…your… _your turning this place into a BREWERY!_ AND A CASINO!"

"Hey partner, I'm told people don't like you guys. It might do you a favor to brand this place as Overwatch Bar and Grill."

"Poker nights for those 21 and over!" Sniper laughed.

Genji had enough of this. In a rage, he ran around the room, kicking over the Blackjack table that they had set up, using his sword to slice the skeleton off the rope, and then he picked up their still that they used to make gin.

The three RED members gathered around and Engie warned, "Buddy, you put that thing down or where going to do to you what no Swiss doctor will be able to revive you from!"

But Genji just throw it on the floor, and shattered with a loud _crash_ , spilling gin all over.

Demo, Engie, and Sniper all glared at Genji for this, and he said, in a very apologetic voice, "Oh, I'm sorry, guys. I didn't know it was going to break. It was very dishonorable of me to just storm in here and do this to you."

"Oh, it's all right."

"Don't worry about it."

"We'll get a new one."

"Don't give it another thought."

As they were saying this, Engineer put a large bag over Genji's head, and Sniper tied him up with some rope. Then, the three of them pushed Genji out the door. "I thought he'd never leave," Engie said.

However, it wasn't just criticism that these three boys attracted. Even the Overwatch had its' own ragtag band of troublemakers. These often consisted of McCree, Junkrat, and Reinhardt. When these three first met those three, they knew that they found their new partners in crime.

The six now have regular poker nights in The Land Down Under, which was the name that Demo, Engie, and Sniper had given their quarters. Not only did it reflect Sniper (and even Junkrat's) origins, but it was also in the basement of Watchpoint. This was one of those nights. The six were engaged in a round of five-card draw. And they were heavily at it. And they weren't betting with poker chips. They were beating with _real_ money.

It was the perfect game night. It was dark outside (Not that they would know. They were living in the basement with no windows), and the only light in the room was from a single hanging lamp right above the card table. Drinks and smokes were in no short supply, and the sound of coins and cards being shuffled were echoing off the walls.

"All right, fellas," Engie said, shuffling the cards. "Who's in?"

"I'm in, mate."

"Me too, Shelia."

"In."

"High Noon is on."

"Count me in, laddie!"

Each of them placed down their initial bid of five pounds (currency in Gibraltar). Demoman lit up a cigar in his mouth. McCree said, "Pass the lighter," holding up a cigarette in his hand. Demoman did so, lighting it up for McCree. "Thanks."

"Dunnae mention it, laddie."

Reinhardt then asked for the lighter for a joint. By 2077, marijuana was fully decriminalized around the world. So people like Reinhardt could freely smoke it without facing any consequences.

Engie dealt the cards.

"Hmmm…"

" _Pair of jacks…_ " Sniper whispered.

 _Man, this ain't lookin' good_.

"All right, fellas, tens wild. Who wants to trade?"

"Gimme two."

"One."

"Three."

"This hand is more like a foot. Five new ones."

Engie then picked up a couple of his own cards and said, "OK boys. Minimum bet, 20 pounds. Who's in?"

"I'll throw the first horseshoe," McCree said, throwing 20 pounds on the table.

"Yeah, I'll see that and raise you another ten," said Sniper.

"I'm out," said Reinhardt, folding his hand.

"I'm with ya, buddy." Engie followed suit.

"Oi, mates. 30 pounds is nothin'. I'll double that for ya!" Junkrat shouted.

"Call."

"Well, fellow Aussie, I'll see that and raise you another twenty!"

Junkrat looked scared. "OK, ya got me. Fold."

Sniper grinned. "That's right, mate. Learn from the experts."

McCree just stared at Sniper and said, "All right, I call."

"Full house, mate." Sniper said with a grin.

"Oh, please." McCree scoffed. "Straight." He showed him a successive 3, 4, 5, 10 (wild card), 7.

"WHAT?! Gaaaaaaah!"

McCree laughed, scooping up the money from the table. "High Noon has come early today!"

"Oh, go soak your head!"

Engie just laughed. "Good thing I folded early. Course, that means _you're_ shuffling this round, cowboy." He tossed the cards at McCree.

Suddenly his smile vanished. "Oh, fine," he groaned. He shuffled, cut, and dealt out the cards to all the people again. "All right, boys. Deuces wild."

"Oh boy," Sniper groaned. "Another bloody useless hand."

At that moment, Pharah stormed into the room. "Do I smell smoke in here?!" She shouted, then sniffed the air. "I do! I should have known that it- _Reinhardt! McCree! You know that it's against the rules to smoke inside Watchpoint!_ "

"What's wrong with a puffing a little joint once in a while?" Reinhardt asked innocently.

" _You know what's wrong with it!_ "

"She's right, buddy," said Engie. "She doesn't want her beloved Watchpoint to go up in smoke!"

Everyone around the table laughed at that joke. But not Pharah.

"Ever since Winston hired you guys, you have been corrupting my beloved team of heroes! You have single-handedly turned some of the nicest men I have met into complete scoundrels! We need to have some strict orders around here saying tha-"

"Hey, lady, will ya shut up?" Sniper snapped. "I'm trying to lose some money here."

Pharah stomped her foot. "That's _Pharah_ to you."

"Hey, Pharah lady, will ya shut up? If I could yawn with my mouth closed, you'd have no idea how borin' you are."

Pharah, offended turned her back, spat out, "We are not finished yet," and stormed out.

"Crikey. I'm glad that's over."

"Ah, don't worry, mate," Junkrat said. "She's just mad because you guys are too much fun for her. She's really nice once you get to know her."

"Yeah, I doubt that," Sniper muttered. "Now where were we?"

"I believe you were going to lose another 80 pounds?" Reinhardt joked. Everyone laughed at that. Except Sniper, who just growled and looked at his cards.

But not long after that, Hanzo burst into the room. He was pissed.

"Oh, fiddlesticks, what now?" Engie groaned.

"I would like to have a talk with about what you did to my brother," Hanzo snarled.

"Yeah, that sort of thing is not cool, dude." Lucio walked in. "I honestly don't care about what you did. Hanzo just asked me to tag along as support."

"According to him, you stuffed a bag on his head and tied him up, and then you-"

"Hey, Reinny," Engie said. "In this future, is there some technology to allow you to record someone's voice and play it back later?"

"You're in big trouble, Texas man."

"I don't think so, Hanz. I can easily beat a pair of twos."

"Don't you try to end this conversation right here!" Hanzo snapped. "You have wronged my brother, and as a Samurai, I cannot let this go unnoticed!"

"Look, mate," Sniper said. "He came in here and invaded our personal space. All we did is give him what he had comin' to him."

"Yeah," a drunken Demo slurred. "We woulda left 'im alone if 'e left 'us alone. Now leave 'ere before I kill ya and keep killin' ya, and…" he crashed onto the table and snored.

"Oi, wake up, dumbass!" Sniper elbowed him.

"Eh? Wha? Oh, I bid twenty pounds!" He slurred.

Engie spoke up. "He's right. He got what he deserved. We're done here, buddy."

"Call," said McCree.

"So you dishonorable ingrates aren't going to do anything?"

"No, of course I will do something," Engie said. "I'm gonna see his twenty and raise him twenty more."

"Hey man," Lucio said. "You should probably do what he wants. I don't wanna be in the middle of a huge fight with-Oooooh, you guys have food here?"

"Yep," said Sniper. "Just some sandwiches, though. We're expecting a pizza to come here any time soon now."

"Wow, cool! I've never played poker in a long time! Mind if I join?"

"Ya got cash on ya?" Demoman slurred.

"Yep. Always keep a full pocket!"

"Well, we're a little in the game right now, buddy. But we'll deal you in next round. How does that sound?"

"Sounds great!"

Lucio sat down in an empty chair in the room. The Down Under Dogs, as the six-man group liked to call themselves, found their seventh member, they knew.

Hanzo was furious. "It's amazing! Anyone who comes in here gets infected!"

"Oi, will ya leave now, ninja boy? I can't even hear myself losing over here."

Angry beyond words, Hanzo stormed out, breaking down the door that Engie had just fixed that morning.

"Aw, hell. Now I gotta fix that again."

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Winston was in his lab, working on his portal machine. He then heard his announcement buzzer ring. That meant that somebody was at the front entrance and needed to speak with someone.

"Yes? What is it?"

" _Uh, hi,_ " the voice at the other end said. " _I have some pizzas here for Down Under Dogs?_ "

Winston sighed. "All right, I'll get them in a just a moment." He turned it off, and then turned on another intercom. "Mei-"

"You wanted to see me, Winston?"

Winston chuckled in irritation. "Yes, but let me say that I want to see you _before_ I see you. Now-"

"You want me to get those pizzas inside?"

"Could you get those pizzas inside? Please? Thank you," noticing that Mei had already left. "I swear, I will never understand how she does it." He flipped on the intercom again. "Now, Mei, when you grab those pizzas, take them-"

"Take them to the boys playing poker," she said, arriving back.

"To the boys playing poker, and check if my-"

"Your package has arrived. The one who've been waiting for."

"package I've been waiting for has arrived-"

"And you need to sign these papers, too."

"-And tell me if there's any papers I need to sign-"

"Just put your initials here."

"-And tell me where I need to sign, and-"

"This one, too. And you'll need me to sign here, too-"

"And sign whatever you need to sign-"

"And you forgot to sign these papers for the anti-mass spectrometer shipment last week."

Winston looked irritated. "Why didn't you have me this while I was signing all those other things I was signing as well, that I don't know why I was signing them either?"

"You were too busy signing those other papers as well."

"Ah yes, how could I forget?"

"It's all right, sir. Now I'll just get you some peanut butter flavored-"

"Could you get some peanut butter-flavored coffee for me, please? Thanks." She was already gone.

Winston sighed. "I hope I didn't just sign away my private jet to her."


	2. Chapter 2: Pyro's Hobby

" **So, Soldier is Sgt. Hartman, Demoman is Vinny or Guts, Pyro is Moliére, Engi is a dwarf, Heavy is Zangief, Spy is Snake, Sniper is Golgo 13, Scout is Sonic and Medic is Reichter." –ZILLAFAN**

… **The hell are you talking about?**

 **Thanks for all the positive feedback on this story. It assures me that I am doing what my loyal readers want: More focus on characters outside of Scout and Tracer. I understand that people may get bored with all the focus on Trout/Emily in the main story, but I do it for a reason.**

"We need to have some more excitement around here."

"I agree. You guys have it too boring in this dump heap."

"I keep telling Pharah that we need a pool in here, but she won't listen."

"Swimming pool or pool table?"

"Both."

The Down Under Dogs were continuing their poker night. At the moment, that was their only form of entertainment that night. Pharah was strongly against parties, and anything that could lead to one. Winston, being the incompetent doofus that he was, could really care less.

"Who is that Chinese ice girl again?" Engie asked.

"Her name's Mei," Reinhardt said. "I like to call her Meidar because she can somehow read Winston's mind before he even says anything."

"She seems a bit gullible. Maybe we can get her to sneak an order form for a pool table past him," Sniper said. "And maybe a foosball table. Scout loves those."

"Aye," Demoman slurred. "Back a' Teufort, we had all the fun in tha world! Drinkin' contests, weekend in San Fran raffles, with tha lovely Miss Paulin', no less,"

"You mates had drinkin' contests?" An intrigued Junkrat inquired.

"'All ya can drink, 50 dollars. Last man standing wins the money,' that was our last one," Engineer said with a smile on his face. "Ah, it was fun. I remember it. The young Scout dropped after three beers, Cyclops here didn't make it past seven…"

"Aye! Shut yer mouth, lad!"

"Hehehehehe. Heavy was the big winner. He outlasted Doc by just one pint of vodka."

"Ya know, mates. Someday we gotta do it."

"Do what?" Junkrat asked his fellow Aussie.

"Throw away all the weapons and just invite those Talon jokers in here for a cocktail party."

"I'm with you, man." Reinhardt said.

"Yep. Last wanker standing on their feet wins the war."

"Great concept," said McCree. "But good luck getting it past Pharah.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Good luck with that, indeed. Pharah was storming into Winston's lab to complain about the smoking, drinking, gambling, and swearing that was going on underneath his very feet. He seemed to have grown very "eh" about the whole thing lately. It's not that he didn't know it was going on, it's that he didn't seem to care.

But as she got to his desk, she heard a voice. It wasn't Winston's. It was the sound of the RED Team's French master of espionage.

"Ah, here I am, sitting in that gorilla's chair, where about a hundred indecisions have been made."

Pharah groaned in disgust to smell tobacco smoke coming from there as well. It's like nothing was sacred to these whackos. The concept of a well-respected (to her, at least) team of heroes saving the world from terrorism didn't seem to have any effect on these…

"Rude, disgusting, ungrateful pigs," Pharah hissed under her breath. Nope, it seemed as if they just treated every place, even the Overwatch's own headquarters like their own personal bedroom, leaving trash all over the floor and saying to the person complaining, "You don't like it? _You_ pick it up."

Pharah stormed in, finding the Spy not only smoking in Winston's chair, but also having a glass of red wine in there as well. And on top of that, he was putting his feet up on the table, leaving dirty footprints on the surface.

" _What are you doing?!_ " Pharah hissed.

"Doing, lady?" Spy asked skeptically.

"D-O-I-N-G! _What. Are. You. Doing?!_ "

"Right now, I'm listening to you spell 'doing'. Until then, I've been keeping an eye on things while that big oaf is eating Elvis' breakfast."

" _You have absolutely no idea how to operate this equipment!_ "

"I've seen this before, lady. All you do is push buttons." At that point, the phone rang. Spy pushed a button to answer it.

" _No! Don't push that button!_ " Pharah shouted. But it was too late. Spy had already pushed a giant blue button on the control panel.

He cleared his throat and said, "Overwatch HQ at Gibraltar." At that moment, the speaker on the control panel, which was where the caller's message was received, and coins started flying out of it. Excited, Spy took off his Fancy Fedora, and used it to catch the coins that seemed to just pop out of thin air into the room.

"Who was it?" An irritated Pharah said.

"Las Vegas," Spy chuckled. "I just won the Russian Roulette from 50,000 miles away! I could never do this in my time!"

" _Get that cigarette out of your hand!_ "

Spy did as he was told. He promptly put it back in his mouth.

Pharah looked flustered. "Gimme that wine." She didn't even wait for a response before she yanked it away from him and gulped down its' contents in one sitting. Then she threw the glass somewhere behind her. It landed with a loud shatter.

"You owe me thirty dollars," Spy said, clearly upset by that. It didn't matter. Pharah just huffed and stormed out of the room. Spy then grabbed the bottle of wine that was on the desk, read the contents, and decided to just drink it straight out of the bottle.

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Pharah wasn't the only one trying to stop all "disgusting activity," as she liked to call it. Genji and Hanzo were monitoring unusual behavior going on as well. They didn't have to look very far for it. Genji noticing the RED Team's Heavy Weapons Guy walking around wearing a ballerina costume, complete with wings and a plastic wand.

"Is there any reason why you're wearing that outfit?" An annoyed Genji asked.

"Heavy is wish-making fairy! Make wish!"

A long pause came and then Genji said, "I wish we never even thought about going back in time to get you disgusting slobs."

"Nyet. Heavy cannot grant wish like that. Heavy can only grant wishes of happiness."

"Well, that would make _me_ happy. _Does anyone on your team ever go to sleep?! I'm hearing about those ding-dongs in the basement playing poker and now you're up, too?! Does anyone sleep here?!_ "

"Only when on duty, baby man."

"' _Baby man'?! Who are you calling baby man?! I am a-_ "

"Heavy is tired of listening to mindless rabble. Baby man is boring Heavy Weapons Guy." And with that, Heavy turned around and left, but not before Genji caught a glimpse of him with his shaved legs and wearing Zarya's high-heeled shoes. _As if they couldn't possibly get any crazier_ ," he thought.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Hanzo opened the door to what should have been an empty mess hall, after hearing some loud clattering and muttering going on. He opened the door to find hundreds, possibly even thousands, of helium-filled balloons in the mess hall. And in the middle of the huge mess was the RED Pyro, accompanied by Mei in the corner. Pyro was making Mei a dog-shaped balloon, which she loved seeing.

"Oh wow, I never knew you could be so good at this!"

"Mmmph-Mah-Mmphmmph."

"Do you even hear what I'm saying?"

"Mmm-mmm."

"Well, I hope you hear what I'M saying, you masked freak!" Hanzo suddenly shouted out. "I want this whole mess cleaned out of here by tomorrow morning, or I'll show you what I, as someone who's followed the path of the dragon, am capable of doing to a freak like you!"

"Hey!" Mei snapped back at him. "How could you call him a freak? I don't see you calling Roadhog a freak just because he too wears a mask!"

Before Hanzo could interject, Pyro walked over to him. He grabbed an empty green balloon, blew it up using a helium tank in the mess hall, tied some string around it, and handed it to Hanzo.

"Aww…for me?" Hanzo said with fake sincerity. "Why, thank you, masked man. I've always wanted my very own balloon." Then the snarl on his face returned and he squeezed the balloon so hard that it popped in his hand. Pyro looked horrified. "Yeah, that's right. Your silly toys won't win over one of the Shimada clan!"

Pyro seemed sad by his comments. But then he quickly ran into the kitchen and came back out with 99 red balloons in each hand. He seemed to be skipping over to Hanzo.

"I told you, I won't take your stupid-Wait. Where are you going?" He noticed that Pyro was walking out of the mess hall and into the hall with the huge staircase leading to the top of the building. With a total of 198 balloons, Pyro began floating up to the very top.

Hanzo's jaw crashed onto the floor. He didn't think it was possible that a human being could be lifted into the air by helium balloons. But he was questioning if this Pyro was actually a human being.

"What the-! How did you-?!" Pyro seemed to be having a laugh at his expense. Hanzo was shocked. He could only imagine what was going through the Pyro's head at that moment. He would not have guessed that everything appeard to be rainbow colored and playing the Lovin' Spoonful in the background. And he certainly wouldn't have guessed that Pyro was actually flying in his deluded fantasies.

Mei rushed outside. She too was shocked by what she saw. But her shock quickly turned into amazement as she shouted out to him, "Wow! That's awesome! You should teach me how to fly!"

Pyro gave her a thumbs-up from where he was, which was almost at the top of the building. But he realized too late that ass he was giving that thumbs-up, he let go of half of his balloons. Now, without enough helium to support him, he fell back down to the ground and landed with a loud _crash_.

He didn't appear to be hurt by it, but any amazement that Hanzo had at seeing that was now gone. "Hmmph," he grunted. "Serves you right. Flying around with balloons, what has that done for anybody? It only serves my point that you all are nothing a bunch of disrespectful weirdos." And with that, he stormed off.

Mei took pity for Pyro, as she went over to him and said, "Don't listen to him. He's just jealous because he's never been able to fly. Also, he hates everything."

Pyro's facial expressions, whatever they looked like, were hidden behind his mask, but he seemed to give her a look that said, _I know what you mean_.

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Pharah went to Mercy's wing, hoping that she could get a little bit of sanity from her. Mercy was one of the most sane people that she had ever met, but you never would have guessed that if you saw what Pharah saw in her sickbay at that time.

Medic was almost naked, wearing only his long pants. Mercy had taken off her Valkyrie suit and her shirt underneath that. She was only wearing her pants and her bra.

"What are you two _doing_ in here?"

"Ve're playing strip chess," Medic said. "Oh-ho. It's very fun. Knight to King 2. Check." Mercy groaned. "Nein, not yet. I'll go easy on you for now. Give me _deine_ halo."

Mercy looked relived. She took off her halo and handed it to Medic.

Pharah couldn't believe what she was seeing. " _Is everyone on your team crazy?!_ "

"Everyone who is sane is, miss."

Having had enough of this crap from the Spy, Pharah stormed out.

"Agh. Now vhere vere ve?"

"I believe I vas taking your precious queen," Mercy said, doing so with her bishop. "Check. Pants, please."

Medic groaned. Mercy giggled.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Up in Scout's room, another party was going on. He was being joined by Soldier, Soldier 76, Tracer, and D. Va for a movie night. Well, not really a movie night. More like a comedy night.

Scout was a huge fan of stand-up comedian George Carlin, having heard some of his acts during his time in the 1970's. He remembered being scolded by his ma for having a copy of his album _Class Clown_ , which included the infamous Seven Dirty Words act. That was extremely risqué for his time.

Jack Morrison, better known as Soldier 76, was in the middle of the spectrum of how the Overwatch looked at the RED Team. While he wasn't particularly fond of some of their antics, he did feel like Overwatch had gotten too boring lately and needed some livening up, and that the RED Team were just the people to do that, even if it sometimes got out of control.

76 told Scout that he was also a fan of Carlin, having listened to his acts all the time when he was a young boy. He owned all of his comedy albums, books, audiobooks, and HBO specials. They were watching one on Scout's TV right now: _You Are All Diseased_. Scout had never seen this one before, since it was made in 1999, but he was enjoying it so far. He couldn't believe some of this stuff he was hearing from it. If he thought that the Seven Dirty Words was living life dangerously, then he had absolutely no idea what living dangerously was really like. He thought he did, though. His brothers once brought him to one of Carlin's shows behind their ma's back. That was the best evening of his life. Of course, ma found out about it and they all got in trouble for it. At least his brothers were also sharing the blame for it, so it wasn't all bad.

Hanzo walked into the room as they were watching a part of the special titled, "Man Stuff." Soldier really liked this part as it contained this part:

 _Here's my idea for a festival. It's called Slug Fest. Here's what you do: You take about a hundred thousand of these fuckin' men, these macho motherfuckers, you what I'm talking about? The muscle assholes._

 _You take about a hundred thousand of these disgusting pricks and you just throw 'em into a big 25-acre dirt arena and you just let them beat the shit out of each other, for 24 hours nonstop. No food. No water. Just whiskey and PCP!_

Everyone in the room burst into laughter at that statement. D. Va and Tracer in particular found it funny because of how unbelievably true it was. They hated those huge muscle freaks who were also rude, showing off, had no brains, and smelled like they hadn't showered in years.

 _And you just let 'em punch and pound and kick the shit out of each other until only one guy is left standing._

 _Then you take that guy, you put him on a pedestal, and ya shoot him in the fuckin' head!_

Scout and Tracer, more than the other three people, couldn't breathe because of how hard they were laughing at that. Scout could not believe what he was hearing. There was no way Carlin could have gotten away with this in 1973. He already stirred up so many people in that time, that he was sued for indecency.

D. Va was laughing so hard at this. She now loved George Carlin because of how true he was. "Oh my god," she said through uncontrolled laughter. "He is so right! I have never seen such an accurate description of guys like that!"

"Yeah," Tracer said through giggling fits. "That is the most accurate depiction of Americans I have ever seen."

Soldier, a proud American himself, didn't like hearing that. "Hey, listen here, you female Dick Van Dyke! If you think that us grand Americans are big, fat morons like you have just heard on this TV, then I will gladly shove a land mine up your controversy-starter!"

Tracer was about to reply to that, but realizing that he was just as right about her as she was of him, she decided not to say anything. After all, she was wearing nothing but her brown coat and a two-piece yellow bikini underneath it. And D. Va was hardly any better, only wearing a skimpy nightdress. It was obvious that she wasn't wearing a bra.

Hanzo, the only one in the room not laughing, shouted out, "How could Winston have let you in? I mean, look at you! You're corrupting our beloved Overwatch by having our young girls strip down to their underwear and exposing them to…to…foul, untasteful garbage like this! It's nothing but bad language and toilet humor!"

"It's called satire, buddy," Soldier 76 said. "I saw this when I was a kid. It's just as relevant now as it was back then. This man is funny because he speaks the truth. And as for these corrupting the Overwatch, lemme tell you something. We have gotten so boring around here lately, that we need them to make us exciting again."

"Boring?! How dare you say that! We had _respect_ before they came here! People took us seriously, but not anymore! Not while these freaks are around us! Yeah, freaks. That's what you are. You aren't heroes. You're an insane asylum! Look at what you guys are turning this place into! It's a mad house! It's a nut farm!"

"Well, that's a little bit harsh, isn't it man?" 76 said.

"Yeah, and what kinda nuts?" Scout asked. "Walnuts? Hazlenuts? Almonds?"

"You think you're so funny with your cheap one-liners and jokes at the end of every sentence. You just have to call all the shots, don't you? You just have to crack a joke at everyone's expense!"

"Well, I'm not biased. You can take a few shots if you'd like," Scout said with a grin.

"Oh, go soak your head! You're all nothing but a bunch of lunatic! I've seen your Scottish demolitions 'expert.' What kind of soldier wears hats and kilts when going out to battle?!"

"Well, at least he's got the right legs for it," Soldier said.

"Hey, listen here, ya ninjacompoop," Scout blurted out. "From what I hear, nobody has been taking you guys seriously at all, even before we joined. These guys have been telling me that ever since you guys have become well known, you have received a lot of hostility from the public because you always fight where people live, resulting in their property being destroyed, and even some of them dying.

Y'know, back in Teufort, we always fought in enclosed areas out of reach of any public environments. I mean, yeah, people still didn't like us, but only because we kept them awake at night.

And before you on bashing Solly and I as Americans, need I remind you that the booze you drink is made in America?"

"What-How dare you say that?! Me and my brother have much more respect for ourselves than to drink American liquor! We only drink prime sake made in our beloved and well-respected home country of Japan!"

"Then how do you explain this?" Scout said, holding up a strange bottle. "I snabbed it from your bro's cabinet. He says that you and him drink it all the time."

"Sake One? Of course we do! This is prime Japanese sake! The true Shamida never drink anything of lesser quality! There is no way that this is made in…" He paused for a moment, as his anger turned into shock and what he was reading on the bottle.

 _Sake One, made and manufactured in Forest Grove, Oregon, United States_

"And from what I hear," Scout continued. "The best American alcohol is made in Oregon! They have their own brewing and distilling culture there! Maybe I should move there someday."

Hanzo was absolutely speechless. He couldn't believe it. This sake, which he and his brother Genji loved drinking so much, was _not_ Japanese? In fact, it was American?! He felt so pissed off right now. He just wanted to rip the head off of the first person that he came across. Somehow he was able to hold it in and hiss to Scout, "Boy, you haven't heard the last of this!"

"Oh, I wasn't listening to the first of it," Scout said.

Hanzo stormed out in a rage, not hearing Tracer shout to him, "Oi, love! Watch out for that-"

But before she could finish her sentence, there was the sound of crashing, clattering, and yelling as Hanzo fell down a flight of stairs with the noise trailing after him, followed by some grunts, offs, ows, and yells with more crashing, and then ending with a huge _thud_ into a wall at the bottom, and ending with the sound of a lid rolling on the floor to a stop. Tracer then rolled her eyes and muttered, "…Trash can."

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Down in the mess hall, Mei was helping Pyro get back up. "Are you OK? I'm so sorry about that. Hanzo is just in a bad mood today. There's no need for you to be scared or angry at him."

Pyro seemed to understand. For his freakish nature, he seemed to be a very good listener, even though Mei sometimes thought that there were other things going on in his head. "Can you do anything besides blowing up balloons? And burning things?" She asked.

Pyro then reached into his suit, and pulled out three small balls, one red, one blue, and one green. Mei was fascinated by Pyro's use of bright and varied colors. She could tell that there was something more going on in his mind. "You can juggle?" She asked.

"Mmm-hmm," Pyro said. He then started juggling to show her his abilities. He didn't just throw the balls from one hand to the other. He would occasionally let one fall down, only for him to knock it back up his foot. Sometimes he would even bounce it off of his head. He continued juggling for a while, until he tossed all the balls up into the air and caught him with his hand.

Mei clapped at that. "That was awesome! I wish I could juggle like that!" It always did take some skill to learn how to juggle, but Mei never bothered as she didn't know what she would do it for. She never wanted to join the circus, especially after hearing that Winston started Overwatch to, among other reasons, escape being a circus animal.

Pyro then ran out of the room and into the kitchen. He came back out with a very large yoga ball. "What's this for?" Mei asked. Pyro responded by jumping onto the ball and starting his juggling act again.

"WOW!" Mei shouted. Pyro was now juggling on a very uneven surface that constantly rocked back and forth. She could not name anybody who could do an amazing feat like that. She knew she couldn't do it, especially not what Pyro was doing, which involved his juggling balls landing and bouncing off of the yoga ball and back into his hands.

However, it quickly came to an end when the yoga ball popped and deflated, taking Pyro down with it. Pyro stepped off the deflated ball, and flipped it over to ensure that it was no longer usable.

Mei said to Pyro, "I don't think you should be doing that anymore."

Pyro looked down sadly. He then slowly hopped out of the room. But Mei could tell he wasn't done yet. He still had one more act for her.

And she was right. Pyro came back into the mess hall, this time riding in on a unicycle. Mei couldn't tell where he got that from, but that actually made it kind of funny.

Pyro did his juggling act again, once again, tossing the balls down to the floor with him kicking them back up. Sometimes he would even bounce them off the pedals of the unicycle. He then started to wheel around the empty mess hall on it, while still managing to keep his juggling act from falling.

After a few minutes of juggling and adulation from Mei, he pointed to her. "Me?" She asked.

"Mmm-hmm."

"Is there something you want me to do?"

"Mmm-hmm." He pointed behind her. She noticed a few more balls on a table. They were yellow, orange, and purple.

"You want these balls?"

Pyro nodded, but made a throwing motion with one hand.

"You want me to throw these at you?"

"Mmm-hmm." He started juggling the three balls currently in his hand again.

Mei threw each of the balls toward him, one at a time.

She couldn't believe it. Pyro caught all of them and was juggling all six balls at once. Once again, sometimes letting them fall, only for him to kick them up again. This was what Mei liked to call A-Mei-zing. She now envied Pyro and his juggling skills.

Pyro kept this up for a while, before he increased his juggling speed, before finally tossing all the balls up into the air and catching them in his hands.

Mei clapped and cheered for him. To Pyro, he felt like all of Woodstock was applauding for him. He bowed and waved to the "people" that were there cheering him on.

Despite what she heard about him, Mei decided that there was really nothing too scary or frightening about the Pyro after all.


	3. Chapter 3: Avoid My Dirty Habit

**Hey everybody! Rockgod here! What the hell? My one-shots story got updated? I know! Crazy, right? I haven't updated this damn story in months now! Well, that's because I've been unable to think of any stories worth telling here, until just recently, when this idea has been going through my head the past few days and I just HAD to get it out for the entire world to see!**

 **Or at least, .**

 **So yeah. I'm afraid I will not be able to say when I upload the next one-shot to this column, of even if I will ever upload one again. All I can say here is just wait and hope. Once true inspiration comes to me, I'll make sure to write it down and put it up here.**

 **For now, though, enjoy this little piece that I just wrote up.**

 **I'm also experimenting with something I've seen in lots of other fanfictions, but haven't really tried to do with my own: Using song lyrics as a part of storytelling, so I guess you could call this a songfic.**

 **DISCLAIMER: This takes place during Don't You Dare Clock Out Early, shortly after Scout's attempted suicide.**

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" _Just about a year ago, I set off on the road._

 _Seekin' my fame and fortune, lookin' for a pot of gold._

 _Things got bad, and things got worse, I guess you know the tune._

 _Oh Lord, stuck in Lodi again._ "

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Scout sat alone in his room. He wanted to be alone. He didn't want anybody to see him now. Not Tracer, not his teammates, not anybody else from Overwatch, and especially not his Spy of a father. The nerve, _the very nerve_ , that man had to call himself his father after abandoning him as a child to suffer constant abuse and neglect, without giving him any support or defense against his attackers. _The vicious cycle of my stupid life_ , Scout would constantly say to himself at times like these, now being one of them.

When he found himself in times of trouble, brother Jordan came to him, speaking words of wisdom, "Shut the fuck up and let it go."

That's definitely what he would say if he was here right now, witnessing his brother's depression after being rejected by a girl who liked other girls, and had a girlfriend of her own.

 _God damn it,_ he thought some more. He might as well cry some more, as well. That's what a certain teammate of his would say.

His room at the Overwatch Watchpoint in Gibraltar was dark, his worn clothes, Bonk! cans, and comic books were lying all over the floor, with the only sound coming from the Creedence Clearwater Revival discs playing on his radio. _Cosmo's Factory_ , Scout's favorite one of theirs, was playing, but not even that could cheer him up.

That's when I got to thinking: What do adults do when they're down and depressed in times like these? Of course they got sad and depressed, but he knew that they had better ways of coping with their problems. Alcohol was the first thing that came to Scout's mind. That was the main reason why his Scottish teammate was always in a happy mood. Because he was always too drunk to feel sad. But ever since Scout first joined the RED Team, which was just after he left high school at the age of 17, they never let him drink. Even after he turned the legal age to drink, they still kept all the booze out of his reach, because they were afraid of the effects it would have on him. If caffeine could make him so hyper that he'd run fast enough to bypass a Level 3 Sentry's bullets, imagine all the crap a bottle of beer would do to him, let alone a glass of Jack and Coke, which Engineer loved to drink.

Scout tried to think of other things, such as porno movies, music with explicit lyrics (He remembered the shitstorm that happened when MC5 released their now-classic live album _Kick Out the Jams_ ), and comfort food, but somehow, everything Scout thought of always went back to drugs. This time, though, he was thinking of tobacco.

Soldier was always in a good mood after a good battle when he'd light up a cigar and go into one of his usual tirades about the glories of America and how they would take down those dirty Soviets in Russia. Ever since hearing that communism collapsed in Eastern Europe in the late 20th century, he tried his hardest to use Winston's time machine to go to that specific time period and see the whole thing for himself, so that he could laugh in the Soviet's faces and tell them how the Screaming Eagles won again. The stars and stripes won both world wars, and he knew that they would win the Cold War, too, he would say, naturally neglecting to mention Korea or Vietnam at all.

Then of course there was his father, almost never seen without a cigarette in his mouth, drawing out huge puffs of smoke, like the dirty rat that he was. No matter how hard Scout tried, he just could not shift any attention away from his father, whom he had grown to hate so much. For a father who claimed to love his son and willingly took a beating from Overwatch's blinker, he had a very screwed-up way of showing it.

Finally, Scout decided that he had enough. He was going to do something his father did not want him to do at all, but he was going to do anyway, just to spite him.

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" _Yesterday and days before, sun is cold and rain is hard. I know_

 _Been that way for all my time._

 _Until forever, on it goes, through the circle fast and slow, I know_

 _It can't stop, I wonder._

 _I want to know, have you ever seen the rain?_

 _I want to know, have you ever seen the rain,_

 _Comin' down on a sunny day?_ "

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He spent the next few hours listening to more Creedence albums. As soon as he got finished with _Green River_ , it was nighttime. As that album's final song said, the night time was the right time. He got out of his room, silently sprinted through the halls, and tiptoed into his father's room. His father was absent. But he left some cigarettes lying around. _Fine_ , Scout thought. _You wanna be a tough parent? Fine. I'll play yer game. I'll be a tough son_. He swiped the tobacco sticks from his father's stand, picked up a lighter that was also lying around the room, and then he left. He didn't start smoking right away. He knew that if he did, that would trigger an alarm throughout Overwatch and that would put a quick end to his smoking trip. OK, maybe it wasn't a trip. It wasn't a hard drug like cocaine, heroin, or LSD. Scout always wondering what LSD was like. He heard about all the good things people spoke about it. His own brother, Jesse, used LSD during his days as a criminal in a gang in Boston. But given the tight security measures at 2Fort, which didn't let up in the slightest at Overwatch, he knew he could rule out drug experiments for a while now.

He climbed on top of the roof at Watchpoint. He lit up a cigarette, and puffed it.

Scout coughed at the feeling of tobacco going down his throat for the first time in his life. It felt painful, it felt weird, it felt so strange. "Aw, jeez. This stuff's gross. Why'd _anyone_ wanna be huffin' this down?" But then, the taste started to kick into his taste buds, and it felt so strangely _good_. "Ah, it's the aftertaste people are out for," he said.

He decided he would continue to smoke. Maybe with enough of this, he would finally be able to get that gritty rock and roll singing voice that he'd always wanted. He tried to achieve that on a diet of chocolate milk, Hersey's bars, and Bonk!, but it was no good. Engineer would always say to him that he sounded like Johnny Cash in Munchkinland. " _Son, if you wanna sound just like the Man in Black_ ," he would say, " _Ya gotta put in twenty years of cigarettes, coffee, and whiskey. And there ain't no way your pa is gonna let ya have it_." "Yeah, well screw him," Scout said, "I'll smoke these damn things if I goddamn wanna!" And Scout puffed another one in.

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" _Oh, it came out of the sky, landed just a little south of Moline._

 _Jody fell of his tractor, couldn't believe what he'd seen._

 _Laid on the ground and shook, fearin' for his life._

 _Then he ran all the way to town, screamin' it came out of the sky._

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For once in his life, Scout felt at peace. The more cigarettes he smoked, the less they seemed to taste bad, and the more relaxed he felt. Now he knew why Spy and Soldier liked their cigars and cigarettes so much. There were no better stress relievers than these rolls of tobacco manufactured from the Deep South United States, probably from Mississippi or South Carolina or one of those states known for their tobacco farms. If twenty years of tobacco, whiskey, and coffee were what it took for Scout to get that classic rock voice that he was after, then he would go ahead and do it, and he wouldn't care what it took to get it. He'd steal from his teammates' liquor cabinets, sneak out of the base and grab drinks, whatever.

"What are you doing up here, _mon ami?_ "

Scout turned around to face the all-too-familiar French accent. Of course. Now of all times his dumbass father had to come up there and see him and when all he wanted was to be alone.

" 'Ey, why do you care? Did ya come up here just to harass me? Fuck off!" Scout shouted back.

Spy noticed the smoke that was hovering around Scout's airspace. "Son, what are you doing?" He asked in concern.

"Don't call me 'Son'! You've never treated me like a 'son' before! I ain't about to call you 'dad' anytime soon!"

"Why is there smoke?"

"Why do ya care? Just playin' with fire. It's what I do. 'S what that masked freak does, too. Why ain't ya concerned 'bout him?"

Spy sniffed the air. Clearly ignoring the insults that Scout aimed in his direction, he continued talking to him. "I know that smell. That is tobacco. You are smoking. YOU ARE SMOKING!"

"Yeah, so?"

" _Son_ ," this time saying that word with extra emphasis, "Why are you smoking? You cannot be smoking. It is very bad for your health. You are a runner. You need your lungs to run and you will ruin them by smoking. Put that cigarette out now."

"Oh, look who's talkin'! Tellin' me how I'm killin' myself by smokin'! Don't ya go through at least a couple packs of these things in one day?! And you have the freakin' balls to tell me I'm ruinin' my life by having one of these?! Fuckin' hypocrite. Just fuck off and leave me the fuck alone."

" _Son_ , I am not going to just 'fuck off and leave you the fuck alone.' As your father-"

Scout had enough of this. He lost his cool, ran over to Spy and shoved him. Spy fell over and landed hard on his back on the rooftop of Watchpoint. He grunted in pain upon impact, but unlike most times when he was attacked in this way, he made no attempt to get back up and continue to fight his attacker.

Just like earlier, when Tracer beat him within an inch of his life, he thought that he deserved the punishment that he was getting.

"Oh what?" Scout mockingly asked Spy as he lay on the ground, not having even trying to retaliate. "Ya gonna cry? Ya gonna cry now? Yeah, I guess when a little 'pint-sized mutt' kicks your stupid wop ass, that must be pretty humiliatin' for you, huh?"

" _Son_!" Spy clearly had enough of Scout's usual antics now. "I know why you are so upset towards me and you have every right to be, but right now I am trying my hardest to redeem myself and become the father that I should have been all those years ago! Now, if you are so tired of your life, er, 'sucking,' as you would call it, I would expect that you would stand still and allow me to get my story straight, if you want to keep your argument that you are better than me!"

Scout, who always thought he was a better man than Spy, had no counterargument and simply did as he was told, which was a rarity.

" _Merci_. Now, about the cigarettes. You are correct, I do sound like a hypocrite when I tell you to stop smoking. I do smoke those things quite often, as you have pointed out. I smoke a pack a day. Maybe two. Sometimes even three. It's a habit I developed ever since I was a young boy. Younger than you are now, in fact. I thought it was just a little stressor that would always help me when I needed it. But I quickly became so dependent on it that these days it is hard for me to function without them. I have developed a habit, son. _A very dirty habit_. I have started something which I cannot finish now.

That is why I am trying to get you to stop, son. I do not want you making my mistakes. I want you to learn your lesson the easy way, learning from someone else's mishaps rather than go through your own.

I am trying to be a father now, Jeremy," now addressing his son by his real name, "But I cannot if you will not let me. So please, my son, let me in. Let me correct the error of my ways and let me be the father that I should have been a long time ago."

Scout was naturally still feeling angry at Spy, but his feelings were now softening up. Now that he heard his reasoning towards why he didn't want him to smoke, it made much more sense now. And Spy was right, he knew, he could only be a good parent as long as his child would give him a chance to be one.

"Oh, alright," he finally agreed. He threw the cigarette onto the ground and stomped it out. He then tossed the other cigarettes off the roof of Watchpoint.

"NOOOOOO!" Spy shouted. Those were his cigarettes, after all. And they were not cheap at all, especially these days since America, as well as France and many other parts of the world, now had a very strict anti-smoking society.

"Aw, crap. Sorry Spy. Forgot they were yours."

Spy sighed. "Oh well. You might have just done me a favor, Jeremy," he said. He was much more calm about losing cigarettes than Scout expected him to be. He expected that after tossing his cigarettes off like they were garbage, Spy was going to bite his head off.

Scout's personal problems were far from over, but knowing that now his dad had his back made things just a little bit better. In a crummy life, at least he had something positive to look back on. He may have not been in good status with his brothers, he may not have had the girl he wanted, he may have not known his father for most of his life, but at least now there was some good to come from it. And later on, Scout would realize that not giving up on life was the right thing to do, as it got so much better later on.

But that's another story.

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" _Pack my bag and let's get movin'_

' _Cause I'm bound to drift awhile_

 _Thought I'm gone, gone, you don't have to worry_

 _Long as I can see the light._ "

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 **Hope you all liked this quick little one-shot that I wrote. Again, I apologize for not updating this very often, but I don't want to do it unless I have some really good story to tell. Thank you all for your patience.**

 **This was originally going to part of Don't You Dare Clock Out Early, but I felt it just didn't fit in with the story as well as I had hoped. I touched it up a little bit and decided to finally put it out for everyone here to see.**

 **The songs used here were "Lodi," "Have You Ever Seen the Rain," "It Came Out of the Sky," and "Long as I Can See the Light" written by John Fogerty and performed by Creedence Clearwater Revival. The use of these lyrics is solely for entertainment purposes. No money or profit will be made off of this fanfiction. Please don't sue me, Mr. Fogerty.**

 **I'm also working on the next chapter of my current story, Meet the New Life, Not the Same as the Old Life. But it's coming a bit slower than I expected, mostly due to some writer's block over one specific part (the subplot with Miss Pauling). If anyone would like to help me out with that (IE, give me some suggestions on what to do), you are free to contact me and let me know.**

 **Your first instinct might be to contact me using this website's IM, but I'd prefer that you friend me on Steam and speak to me over Steam IM. My Steam username is simply Rockgod and my profile picture is the same as it is here.**

 **That goes for anyone else reading. If you'd like to speak to me about things, related to my fanfiction or to gaming, or to play games (I play quite frequently), send me a friend request on Steam, and drop a line on the IM to me. I'll be willing to speak about just about anything.**

 **That's all for now, if I think of any other one-shot stories to tell (or if anyone has any suggestions), I'll be sure to get them up on here!**


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